Fortunate
by RazeTora
Summary: There are so many differences between Apollo Justice and Phoenix Wright. The same applies to their rivals in the courtroom. T For Swears. Quickly written Oneshot.


Apollo was told that Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth were not close. Friends once, but not very close upon becoming reunited. "Daddy and Mr. Edgeworth were still friends inside. But their outsides weren't very sure of it. I think they wanted to be friends. But they were scared to." Trucy had told him one day. He found it strange. Yes, some days he wanted to yank Klavier to eye level with him by the ponytail and slap him in the mouth, but for most of the time, he could tolerate the smug rocker. Apollo was told he was lucky. Apollo was told he could make friends.

And then there were days where he and Klavier would sit, one office or the other, contemplating why they had no problem with association when they weren't pointing fingers across the courtroom. Or helping Klavier pick up sheet music off the floor, and "Prosecutor Gavin, the window shouldn't be open on windy days like this in the first place," and "Your office isn't exactly pristine, Herr Forehead," and "We should go with Trucy to that new spy movie, it looks kinda fun."

But, for some reason, Apollo was silent that day. "You seem...different today, Herr Forehead. Something the matter?" Trucy pulled a beat-up Les Paul out of her panties and Klavier gave her a small applause at this feat. She bowed and handed him the old instrument, and he hooked it back on the wall.

"Nah, I'm just..." he sighed, trying to shoo away his apprehensions. "Why do you call me that?"

Trucy giggled.

"'Cause your forehead's the size of the Berlin Wall."

"Very relevant, Fraulein Trucy."

"So, isn't it kind of...patronizing?"

"Fine. Then _you _call me Mr. Jerky-Bastard-Who-Thinks-He's-A-Big-Shot-Cause-He's-Rich."

"He does. But only when you're not around."

"Be quiet, Trucy."

"I don't blame you. Even though I'm not as much of an ass as people...you...make me out to be." He tweaked at the hung up guitar for a bit, and the B string snapped. "Shit, I knew I needed to take this in." he mumbled, inspecting the damage. "Hold on, you two. I need to get something from the other room." He walked out briskly. Even as old and damaged as the poor little made-for-a-kid Les Paul was, Klavier valued it.

"Klavier's a nice guy, Apollo."

Apollo attempted to half cover his mouth with a part of his hand as he leaned his head upon it. "I know..." he mumbled, somewhat ruefully.

"Awww, don't be such a Grumpy Gus, Apollo. Really, now."

"I'm not."

"Sourpuss."

Klavier came back in, a plastic container in his hand. "Fraulein Trucy, could you do me a favor, please? See those six things up there? Yes, those. When I say so, twist that one, right there." Apollo looked on as Trucy assisted his adversary in replacing the string. It was quite thin compared to the others.

"Um..." he said quietly. Chords of Steel in action, indeed. "do you guys need any help?" Klavier shook his head.

"No, it's fine, Herr Forehead, he have it covered. Just sit tight."

Apollo crossed his arms, and suddenly felt a bit guilty sitting in one of Klavier's chairs. He stood up and watched silently. Minutes later, the job was finished, and a more relieved rock star set up his prize.

"Love this thing. My dad got it for me when I was three. He taught me how to make the windmill motion with my arm like The Who." he explained, and demonstrated. Apollo and Trucy attempted to emulate this quirk as good as his, but failed.

"Alright, alright." he said with a chuckle. "You're making me dizzy."

_I wonder if Mr. Wright ever heard Prosecutor Edgeworth laugh like he just did. Not in a spiteful, "I've-got-you-pinned" way. In a "I find this funny" way. In a happy way. _

"It's impolite to stare, Herr Forehead."

Apollo diverted his eyes and pulled down his two spikes in a useless attempt at covering his forehead.

"I think you're shrinking his confidence, Mr. Gavin!" Trucy said, finding amusement in this.

"Well, I'm glad you're happy." Apollo grumbled. His spikes sprung back up, as if to say "we defy you, o cruel sir who suffocates us with hair care products."

Trucy yawned. "Oh, jeez louise, it's nine thirty already! I'm going home, have fun being night owls."

"Ah, Trucy, do you want a bike ride ho--"

"I can walk faster, Polly." she teased, winking and exiting through the door, as every master of illusions should. He turned to Klavier.

"You've been teaching her well, haven't you?" More laughter. After a pregnant pause, Apollo stopped and smiled at the Prosecutor, the one who'd made him angry, annoyed, jealous, belittled, and generally bothered.

"Hm? What's this? Reverse psychology?" Apollo sighed.

"We're lucky, Prosecutor Gavin. Did you know that?"

"Oh? We are, now? How so? Have you been hunting leprechauns?" Apollo laughed a tiny bit this time.

"Mr. Wright once told me...he had a friend who was a prosecutor. Best friends, actually. But he said that when they were rivaling against one another, their relationship was greatly strained. And I find it a tad curious, because we're not really like that." Klavier seemed perfectly composed, as per the usual, all the way through.

"I don't believe in unreasonable arguing and grudges. As I've said, I am two people. I am Klavier Gavin, prosecutor of the law in the state of California. I am also Klavier Gavin, musician, and average human being. The way we fight in court does not define our stance as people. I respect and fight you in the office, I befriend you on the street. Don't expect me to despise you merely because we sit on opposite benches."

Apollo paused, taking in everything he had said, analyzing it in his mind. Then he nodded.

"I still think I'm lucky." he gave another smile, albeit smaller, and fetched his bike key from his pocket. "I'll be leaving now. Thanks for having us."

"Any time."

And with that, Apollo Justice exited the office of Klavier Gavin, Prosecutor and Everything In Between.

"Huh. I guess I am a bit lucky." he glanced at his platinum records. "Sure, why not?"


End file.
